Love
by Lif61
Summary: Team Free Will 2.0 is a family unit, but they don't always say the words "I love you." In fact, they're a bit allergic to them, but they find other ways to show their love and appreciation for the members in their family.


**A/N: Written for week 10 of SPN Hiatus Creations 2019 on tumblr.**

**Prompt: Ways to Say "I Love You"**

* * *

"_Driver picks the music. Shotgun shuts his cakehole._"

Dean had said that and it was a pretty strict rule they stuck to, except sometimes Dean would find a way to play Sam's music. The first time he'd done it Sam blushed red to his ears because Fall Out Boy was now blasting through the speakers, the hard hits of the bass guitar reaching his ears. And Sam definitely knew the song.

He tried to turn it down, and Dean slapped his hand away. His brother lied, "Stop, I like this one."

The lyrics, "_I'm gonna make you bend and break_," reached their ears, and Sam crossed his arms.

"Fine, then name the song."

"Uh…"

"Yeah. Thought so."

"Shut up."

Sam shook his head, smiled, but decided to enjoy himself, singing along, "Say a prayer, but let the good time roll, in case God doesn't show! Let the good times roll! Let the good times roll!"

Dean was smiling too, letting Sam enjoy his music.

Sam was getting all dramatic now, turning to Dean, trying to act things out. "And I want these words to make things right, but it's the wrongs that make the words come to life! Who does he think he is?! If that's the worst you got better put your fingers back to the keys!"

Dean shook his head. "Nerd."

The guitar picked up, and Sam started rocking his head back and forth, just listening to the chorus now, and he shook his head, hair getting in his face, yelling out an "oh!" when it got to that part.

Dean was laughing.

The second verse came in, which Sam didn't know so well, but he sang with the chorus, "One night and one more time! Thanks for the memories even though they weren't so great!" Feeling awkward from the next lines, and blushing profusely, he just hummed along, pretended to play some riffs on the guitar. "One night, yeah, and one more time! Thanks for the memories, thanks for the memories! He, he, duh-duh-duh, only sweeter!"

The car ride seemed to be going faster, and Sam turned the music up, glad to be hearing a song he liked. He liked Dean's music, but this gesture of affection, this sign that his brother cared, that he knew what music he liked was making him soar. Besides, it was one hell of a song. By the time the chorus came around again, Dean had picked up on it, and was unashamedly singing it with him.

They ended together, yelling "_oooh!_" the windows rolled down.

Sam grinned, showing his teeth, glad to have a brother like Dean.

* * *

Sam wasn't very good at cooking, but after one of his runs, he realized Dean wasn't up yet, so he tried making eggs and bacon. _Tried_ being the operative word. The bacon was too crispy in some places, a bit black, and almost squishy in others, and the eggs were runny.

At least the toast had come out okay, and the coffee had too (thank god).

The smell of bacon seemed to have woken up Dean because he came lumbering out to the kitchen in his boxers and his dead guy robe, rubbing at his eyes. Sam set coffee by his seat, black, like he liked it, and tried to get his plate ready.

"So I'm not the best cook, but I thought you'd be hungry. Sorry, it's kind of a mess."

Sam set Dean's plate down, and he'd even tried to make a smiley face with the eggs and bacon. Dean stared at it, stared at Sam, cracked a smile, and set about putting pepper on his eggs.

"Uh, wants some orange juice?" Sam said, standing there awkwardly while Dean cut his food.

Oh, he hoped he liked it. He'd even given Dean the better half of the eggs, and the best piece of bacon he could find.

"Sure."

Dean must've taken his first bite when Sam was getting him his orange juice, because some of the eggs were gone, and he was cutting up more.

"How is it?"

Dean nodded. "Not bad."

Sam gave him a half smile, and set about fixing himself a plate, getting his coffee ready as well. When he put the food in his mouth, he paused, looking up at Dean who was eating without a care. Wow, it did not taste good.

"You sure?" Sam asked around a mouthful of egg he didn't really want to swallow.

Dean nodded, kept eating.

Sam felt bad; he'd tried to do this nice thing for his brother, and it had gone wrong. He'd have to make up for it somehow. Maybe lunch? Sam couldn't ruin that, could he? Dean liked grilled cheese.

"Look, some mornings we've woken up with the taste of blood in our mouths," Dean said. "My brother making breakfast for me? That's pretty awesome. I'll take what I can get." Dean reached out and pat him on the shoulder. "Thanks, Sammy."

* * *

At first Castiel showed his love to Dean by protecting him in fights, but then it wasn't enough, not nearly enough. He couldn't stand not being with him, couldn't stand thinking of him hurt, or suffering, couldn't stand the mere thought of Dean being upset.

So he started to do things for him, would go into his head and ease his nightmares — though he'd do the same for Sam, purely out of strong, familial love — and sharpen his weapons, clean his guns, help him make shotgun shells, and he could sometimes be caught doing some of his laundry.

It wasn't much, but he liked to do it. It wasn't a chore for Castiel. He needed things to do while Dean slept, and he liked that Dean woke up with less work to do, less weighing down on his shoulders.

But still it wasn't enough.

Which was why he now had Dean pressed against his bedroom door, and was staring into his eyes. Dean was nervous, he could smell it, and Cas caressed his face, trying to ease him.

"It's okay, Dean."

"Cas, what is this?" His friend's voice was rough, and he was glancing down the hallway, maybe worried that Sam would come along.

Castiel didn't worry. He'd already talked to Sam about this. Sam had caught on a couple years back to how they both felt. And Castiel knew Dean felt the same way. There were many ways to say _I love you_, but Cas' small gestures were no longer enough.

"I think you know."

Dean inhaled a shaky breath, and Castiel leaned in slowly, their lips coming together. He wasn't sure if this was the sign of love that he needed. He realized it was everything he'd been waiting for, but it felt natural, like this was always going to happen, as if after all the years they'd fought side by side that it was only part of some plan that they would end up together.

But it was no divine plan.

It was their plan.

"What was that?" Dean asked when Castiel pulled away.

Their noses brushed together, and he answered, "That was an _I love you_."

* * *

Jack didn't know how to draw, but he'd drawn his dads a picture. Or… he'd tried. He'd tried to draw them. Funny how he used to be able to make magical shadow puppets, but drawing his dads was a challenge. Sure, he had construction paper and crayons, and he could find all the right colors, but copying them line for line, getting the immense detail of all of them, the depth, the emotion… he just couldn't do it.

Still, he gave it to them anyway when he finished.

Jack wasn't quite happy with his project. It didn't look like them, so just to make sure they'd know who was who, he'd written their names in capital letters (the only letters he knew how to write at the moment) at the bottom of each of their faces.

He'd presented it to them after dinner, yellow paper already crinkling up in the bottom right hand corner from the times his arm had run over it, and they panicked, realizing they didn't have magnets for the fridge.

So Castiel took Jack out to one of the only stores that was open in town at this hour. He didn't run into anyone he knew, which he now got quite anxious about, and they purchased the magnets, which were yellow circles with smiley faces on them, and they headed home.

"That was a nice picture you made, Jack."

Jack shrugged, still wanting to fix it, but he didn't know how. "It's okay."

"No, I think it's wonderful. How long did it take?"

"Half an hour?" Jack guessed.

As a human he wasn't very good at paying attention to time anymore. With his Grace he'd been able to keep track of it down to the exact second, but now…

Jack shook himself out of it, thinking back to the picture.

"You're happy with us, right, Jack?"

"Where else would I go?"

"But we're doing okay? This _is_ our first time being dads."

Jack gave his father a reassuring smile, and told him, "Well, in that case you're doing great."

"Thanks for the picture." Castiel leaned closer, telling him, "I love it."

They got back to the bunker, and hung the picture up on the fridge.

"Thanks, kiddo," Dean said. "Gonna make more?"

"Maybe."

"You're not that bad," Sam complimented, making Jack feel better about his work.

So he got his construction paper and crayons back out, and began making another picture of his family that he loved. They all loved each other, and they all had different ways of showing it.


End file.
